


We Real Hustlers, Babe!

by Sir Legowisko (viintaas)



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angel Making Jokes, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Language, Forced Prostitution, Gen, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, References to Drugs, Smoking, Talking, i guess, painful flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viintaas/pseuds/Sir%20Legowisko
Summary: Frightening to see Angel like this. Shaking, fur-soaked; coat he wrapped around himself wasn’t fit to his slick, tall body. Vaggie pulled Angel off the cold street outside the Hotel, as far from mercilessness of Hell as she could.
Relationships: Angel Dust & Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino/Angel Dust (mentioned)
Kudos: 10





	We Real Hustlers, Babe!

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Две бляди на променаде](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832946) by [Господин Леговишько (viintaas)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viintaas/pseuds/%D0%93%D0%BE%D1%81%D0%BF%D0%BE%D0%B4%D0%B8%D0%BD%20%D0%9B%D0%B5%D0%B3%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%B8%D1%88%D1%8C%D0%BA%D0%BE). 



> Sure made some typos and grammar mistakes. If someone willing to help, I pretty much appreciate ヽ(͡◕ ͜ʖ ͡◕)ﾉ

Frightening to see Angel like this. Shaking, dirty, fur-soaked; coat he wrapped around himself wasn’t fit to his slick, tall body. There weren’t much underneath the coat; just tattered fabric of what once was women panties, pinned with barrette at a thigh, barely hiding pink coloured lubed spider penis… And dirt. It was everywhere. Like all the cars rode aside Angel had an obligation to splash him with every sin that had been lying in this poopy poodles.

“Oh, Charlie, my dear, good you don’t see him right now”, Vaggie thought. Every Angel’s step shaking; she pulled him off the drizzling street outside the Hotel as far and soon as she could.

Husk even, for a second or two, slip his attention to saw them walking to the elevator. And get lost into work.

Rather quickly, Vaggie run the bath and mopped Angel like mother taught her. The wrinkled become even ironed, already flattened will fluffed and lighten, and so dirtiest will shine as newly bought!

Water soon turned into a smelly, swamp-coloured mess.

Angel’s puked with what remains of a… cake, maybe? in his stomach. And blood. Swamp-colour water redden, white-meshed; Angel seized, and every spasm freed a viscous web, dissolved in Vaggie long pale fingers. If only so did the stench… Bitter, like Angel tears. Was is it the pain for blame? Or his embarrassment? He writhed and shrank, seeking safety how not him but his primordial instincts remembered. Curl up, like a wounded animal. Find helping hands, that mopping you, care for you.

If only Angel had known how many times Vaggie felt the same, snuggle drunk to girls, to… friends around her. Disgraced. Drunk. No hopes, no dreams, no will to live.

Nobody would like to find themselves in the hedgerow like this, cutting by their fellow, well, colleague, Vaggie bet.

_Oh, pobre, pobre Ángel…_

Niffty came into the bathroom after them, and fainted.

“Oh, Charlie, it would be better for you not knowing about what happened tonight”, Vaggie thought, helping Angel to move, at least, by her own strength.

Alastor suddenly crossed their way to Angel’s room, kindly offered a helping debt hand, yet Vaggie hissed at him. “Better get him some clothing. I mean, a lot”.

Angel’s fur was now clean and fluff, making him looks like a fur ball rather than vicious spider whore. He focused entirely, with all his eight eyes, on Alastor-Vaggie spontaneous movements around him until the very moment, when Vaggie finally sat him down in a chair at hall on his hotel floor and pushed a hot cocoa in his hands.

Squeamishly, Alastor advised not to stay up too late even for Hell, Angel’s been _deeply disturbed_ after all, and vanished.

Angel felt lost a bit. He looked at walls, all in Magne royal family paintings. Wanted to ask for something.

“Um”, he started. “Where’s your dorky-blondy friend?”

Vaggie was too tired to correct his _dorky-blondy_ for _Charlie_.

“Today was my turn to get to know where the Hell have you been. If you try your finger trick at me, I’ll broke your fucking finger, got it?”

Angel smirked.

“Oh, okay. Well, thanks for your trouble and this cocoa, sugar moth, but I’m literally dying for sleep.”

Vaggie frowned not at him but this torn chair, in which Angel almost laid. “So, girl, let’s act naturally. Naturally”, she thought.

“You’d better thank me for not let you fall asleep all jizzed.”

“Thank you for wiping my ass, mommy.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, no, thanks, thank you, really”, his word sound genuine, even more, than usual. “I am a whore, wasted stoner, drug-crazed hustler, Vaggie, I can’t think right now, like at all, I’m all wrapped over it, that bloody Hell Valentino made, and their sizes and shapes are the same, fuck him, that bitch!”

Cocoa flew right into the fireplace.

The stench wasn’t that bad this time, yet Vaggie jumped to the window and opened it wide. Outside, was a snake rain. Lots of small snake had fallen to the ground… Disgusting creatures, let Lucifer forgive her soul; yet her memories of that brothel, of which she thought when saw Angel like this early, were same-described. She just didn’t understand… how.

Angel, unlike her, loved fucking with other men; he knew every penis on Manhattan back when he was alive, if rumors are truth. He was a slut then, wasting his life to the point far outside every mindful boundaries of even doubtful consent sex. Death forgives everything, they said, even for Hell dwellers. But Angel wasn’t… He…

Vaggie felt disgusted just thinking about it. Angel was still a whore. He, kind of, loved it, put his ass up to everyone who wanted it for a pinch of dust he was named after, and was paid pittance, nobody could even fuck for -- that how little and nothing it was. All of this was a miserable waste of his life and afterlife here, in Hell. Vaggie didn’t understand him at all.

And yet, all of it was like it was designed to be that way. Angel to be found on the Pentagram-city streets and given huge pile of money.

All by Charlie’s kind heart.

It was her wish to give him that money.

To ask him to stop by the Happy Hotel.

To… She might didn’t intend to, _Charlie could not do this to her_ , but they, alone, were two hustlers. Vaggie, again and again, seeing him, remembered everything life put her through!

To… For her men-hated heart began to scream: Angel is in trouble! They have to save him. Nobody deserve a life like this. Even in Hell. Nobody. Never. If it means they will have to track down where the chain from Angel’s gaping ass leads, they’ll do it. They will find that… Valentino demon? or Stolas, maybe? Who, exactly? Vaggie have a deep hatred for this monster deep in her heart, already.

She squeezed her fingers into the wood of the window frame; it hurt. The road down has been crawling.

“I don’t understand. Why do you work here, Angel. They just use you, giving you a pittences.”

“Inside me, you mean.”

Vaggie turned to him, nearly offended.

“How can you making jokes about it?!”

Angel didn’t her even a small glimpse.

“Hey, do you have any blow?”

“Are you even…”

“I wanna, like, a cigarette, don’t mind that, and your baby girl isn’t around.”

God save Lucifer, he was right. Luckily, Charlie wasn’t around that evening. Dad business, she said.

Angel was full white-fured, yet he was pale that night. He wanted to smoke knowing that he will puke, if something got down his stomach, again.

From her brassiere Vaggie pulled of a light long cigarette.

“I quit. For her.”

“But old habits die hard, let me guess. Always have one at your heart”, he smirked and touched a contour of her bra with his fanged finger. “How romantic, you know? So, where’s she? I’m interested.”

They say, once you’ve bitten the forbidden fruit, it’s taste will give you unforgettable feeling of freedom. But then you’ll say: no, I didn’t try it! Didn’t dare even to lick! It’s forbidden, my Lord! And then Heaven’s gate will close for you forever at your very nose, like that hard wooden door from your life slapped. It would be hold by a Satan’s hand, sparkling with gem rings to always warn you: not to lie to your superiors, masters, Gods, and be honest with them.

Some has given up. Life isn’t harsh. Misery, though. But at very beginning… pleasantly. Until this very moment, and if there was a chance, a small light of hope to get even at Hell’s end… But Valentino set the rules.

Once Satan hold the door. Got shiv into his guts. Not sharp but strong enough to kill… and find the shiv in one’s own guts for disobeying the rules.

Vaggie haven’t won, she’s dead, yet she’s _sassy_. She doesn’t understand anything, nor the sweetness of so-wanted dick (or pussy, in her regard), neither burning down the spine – there’s anus, and you don’t feel it, _that much pain_ \-- when you don’t have a right to speak loudly when you’re ready, and not _him_.

She is a fool. Fool, fool, fool, fool. Crying forbidden by the rules in that business. Nobody would understand.

“Quite a taste”. They shared cigarette until it’s over. Angel breathed out smoke one last time. “Cheapy but good, ah, strong. Can you tell me, when will I go to our might Lord? He must have quite an appetite and food up there.”

“You’ll never”, Vaggie laughed. What a shame, she got better when smoked.

“How can I forgot… They all despise our existence from up there. Prince Stolas especially hard on us”.

“Yeah… Angel?”

He wiped all his eyes.

“Okay, listen. If I wasn’t all fucked up, I would go absolutely crazy that you, girls, are really want to help me, you even ask Radiodemon himself to lift up my overfucked ass! I can understand you. I’m even ready to befriends you, Vag! But this Charlie…” He swallowed all inappropriate words. “Let’s don’t touch the spot… um, well… You have your second chance now; you’ve killed your fucker. But what about me? Where do I go? To double Hell? Ehehe, love this one. Or to royal kitchens, to become a royal taster, huh?” Minute of silence. “I’ve always been wandering, how long our Lord dick is. Some say, he’s like a steed, yet I think like an elephant”.

“We’re always understand you, or try, at least”. One sip, and the cigarette will end. “Katy Killjoy could go scrap her own ass with her fancy manicure, she will have zero info about you”.

Now, Angel laughed.

“ _You_ will understand me. Vaggie, we real hustlers, babe. Your Charlie’s just a girly girl, what, God forbid, she was taught? Help some smack-heads come across the streets before the Purge?”

Cigarette followed the cocoa into the fireplaces.

“I, uh… Will sleep here, for sure”, Angel coughed. Ass still burned but he was clean, clothed and talked. Talked. “Can you help get to my room? Uh, fuck… I, sorry I puked at you, was an asshole, and I’m an asshole but ok, well, never mind that, I will fall asle… thanks girls to ya’… fuckwhathaveleftofmegodfuckingdamnedlife”.

Vaggie helped him, of course.

And Charlie was more than happy know that her two sore heads finally found their lingua franca.


End file.
